


Cutthroat

by AMudkipNamedScott



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, It's fine till someone gets hurt, Norman Osborn is a terrible father, Not the happiest epilogue around, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Stark Industries Internship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-09
Packaged: 2021-01-16 02:17:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21263459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AMudkipNamedScott/pseuds/AMudkipNamedScott
Summary: The inaugural Stark Industries Talent Hackathon was bound to attract scores of hopeful young engineers and scientists. Among them was a pair of best friends. Needless to say, the dazzling gleam of Stark Tower only served to fuel the stiff competition, but Harry was determined to win the internship. Besides, with Peter by his side, what could go wrong?





	1. The Dome

**Author's Note:**

  * For [highadventure](https://archiveofourown.org/users/highadventure/gifts).

> This was written for a fic exchange with highadventure. It's also pretty much my first fanfic ever after decades of reading, so I'd really appreciate any feedback or tips on how to improve!
> 
> Writing this I had Tom Holland's Peter Parker in mind, but took some liberty with the rest of the characters since they don't exactly appear in the MCU (apart from Happy Hogan). Gwen Stacy is definitely not Emma Stone though.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Right, and while you’re in there kicking ass on the whole coding thing you do, I’ll be right behind you. With food. Maybe ice cream. Or anything else, really. Oh! Do you think I’ll be able to see Mr Stark himself? Alright, new plan, you’re going in, I’m gonna leave you at the door and explore Stark Tower, and if I run into any of the Avengers I’ll shout -”

Harry let out a snort before clamping his hand down on his friend’s shoulder. In his excited rant Peter had jumped on a few paces in front, and Harry pulled him back to his side. “Pete, do you really believe that you’ll be able to go marauding around the freaking _ Stark Tower _? The security there is going to be so tight, they’d haul you out those doors if you dare to let so much as an unauthorised fart out.”

Peter giggled, took another lick of his vanilla cone, and fell back in step with Harry as the pair of friends strolled towards the most smugly ostentatious building in Manhattan. Harry continued, “Besides, I’m pretty damn sure I’ll win the competition and get to meet Tony Stark anyway, so when that happens I’ll inform him of my pretty lady best friend and you’re more than welcome to join in our Saturday tea parties.”

On the day that Stark Industries announced their inaugural coding competition - the Stark Industries Talent Hackathon (seriously, Tony Stark was just trying to see what acronyms he could get away with at this point. Harry would not have been surprised if his next invention was called the Actual Super Solid Hoverboard Overload Lead Exterminator) - one that was mooted to ‘attract young talents to a promising career in Stark Industries’, both Harry and Peter had messaged each other at the same time to scream about it. What ensued was an afternoon in the Osborns’ household where Harry had furiously applied for the SITH as Peter ran around grabbing any documents that Harry needed. Finally, at 5.30PM, they had smashed the mouse on the glowing ‘Submit Application’ button, and it was not long after that Harry received the email informing him of his candidacy and details of the event. Peter had done the same afterwards and had gotten an identical acceptance email. They had celebrated at Peter’s house, with Aunt May making the best fish and chips he had ever tasted.

The first SITH was to be a hackathon-style recruitment competition for promising high school students, where the most outstanding candidate would be awarded with a year-long internship in Stark Industries. Any idiot from New York could tell you the doors that would be opened to you if you had _ Intern at Stark Industries _ written on your resume, so Harry, much like hundreds of other youths in the tri-state area, was fully determined to get the internship. Well, no, they were not like Harry, because Harry had more than just determination in him. If he were honest with himself, there was a larger part of Harry that was attracted to the perks of the internship apart from the gleaming recommendation. A year of living in Stark Tower was unbelievable in itself, but to have a golden ticket to work anywhere he wanted to, doing what he really loved... The prospect sent shivers down his spine. Being a part of the Research and Development team in the Tower would allow him to learn more than he ever would in Midtown or the extra-curricular programming lessons. If he did well enough, they might even let him head a team that is based away from New York, or away from America. Hell, he could go all the way to Asia if Stark Industries was looking to expand in China. If he got this right, he could completely reverse the course of his life; away from his family, away from his _ father _...

Harry shook his head and cleared his thoughts, mentally berating himself. It was not the time to focus on that. Instead, he looked over at Peter who was finishing up his cone and smiled to himself as he felt the warm feeling in his chest spread as it did whenever he was reminded of how blessed he was to have Peter as his best friend. To anyone who did not know them, it would be impossible to fathom that their relationship actually started off as bitter enemies. In the beginning of middle school, when Harry was dealing with the onset of his father’s conditions, being the son of the CEO of Oscorp meant that he could do whatever he wanted and pay to get away with it. All the other students either sucked up to him or stayed far away from him, but one day Peter Parker did not stay far enough and bumped into him at lunch. For the next two years, Harry summoned his cronies who tormented Peter everyday, yet Peter seemed unfazed by it all; like he knew a pain that transcended punches and wedgies (which Harry later knew to be the horror of watching his uncle murdered before his very eyes). Had Mrs Vlachos not firmly put them together on the same project back in eighth grade, they would not have realised how complementary their abilities were. Between the two of them, Harry was the one blessed with a mind for engineering, whereas Peter considered himself more of a scientist. Their science project - a voice-automated coffee-maker - astounded their classmates, Mrs Vlachos, and eventually the judges of the District Science Fair, due to its robustness on both the front-end and back. Since then, Harry and Peter have partnered up on every project together and the rest, as they say, is history.

“Hey,” Peter’s enthusiastic nudge broke his reverie. “The Tower’s just up front! Wow, it looks so different from how I remember it to be during the Stark Expo. Wow, Har, I hope you’re ready! This is… Wow...”

Walking out of Central Park Harry turned his head upwards to take in the view of the towering skyscraper, and could immediately understand why the usually chatty Peter was at a loss for words. The building was easily a hundred stories tall, its surface unapologetically reflecting the rays of the April midday sun. A gigantic, neon ‘A’ proudly told anyone who looked at it exactly whom the tower belonged to, and it stood confidently as if knowing it was the pinnacle of human development.

A gigantic crowd was gathered at the entrance of the tower where a long row of banners declaring the SITH and bearing Tony Stark’s face ended. It was intimidating, and suddenly Harry was aware of how dry his throat felt. Sure, getting an A+ in the Design Technology module was one thing, but here? Among all these people, some of them looking like they completed their Ph.D at 18 years old? Harry may have just overestimated himself. He shook his head vigorously when a small voice at the back of his head whispered scornfully.

_ You’ll never amount to anything, little shit. Weak. Pathetic and spineless. The Osborn family does not need a failure like you in our family tree. _.

His worry must have shown on his face, because suddenly Peter was standing in front of him, grabbing his shoulders and shaking them. “Dude, you got this,” Peter said, making full eye contact. “Don’t worry, you know you’re the best and you’ll beat the crap out of all these people. Just head in, do what you do best. Remember, I’ll be behind you. If you don’t make it we’ll just wallow with some Thai food, yeah?” With a reassuring grin, Peter swung his arm around Harry’s shoulders and led them up the stairs into the crowd. It was a good thing, too, because Harry felt like his legs were going to give way.

Their journey to the tall, glass doors involved a lot of jostling, ducking, and shouting, “Excuse us!” When they finally did manage to reach the security counter, a stern-looking man in a suit who looked like he would much rather be anywhere but there waved them over. Peter bounced up to him first, peered at his badge, and began to greet the man just as Harry reached them.

“Sir, is your name really Happy? Or is it like a - like a nickname? Does everyone get a nickname in here? A made up name? What if -”

The man’s expression turned even darker and Harry was convinced for a moment that he was going to punch Peter into oblivion. Yanking Peter’s arm he harshly whispered, “Shut up, just get the invitation card out!” His friend’s eyes widened and both of them reached hastily into their bags, simultaneously pulling out the document that served as their entry ticket. The security man - Mr Hogan - snatched it from their hands and aligned the barcodes with the virtual scanner. Seconds later he heard two plonks, and Harry whipped around to find that the machine sitting on the security counter had dispensed two passes, one bearing his name and photo and the other, Peter’s.

_ Will you look at that _ , Harry mused as the pair made their way into the building. _ This is the kind of shit I want to be able to do. Instant 3D printing but on the next level. _

If they thought the facade of the building was impressive, the interior blew it right out of the water. After the Ultron Offensive last year, the Avengers moved their compound upstate, which meant that Tony Stark could resume the use of the Tower for his company. He then had the lobby of the Tower redesigned to include a water fountain, a world map that had different lights in the countries where Stark Technologies has been exported to, and a showroom displaying the latest Starkphones. The crown jewel, however, was a semi-virtual tour on the divisions of the technological giant. You could select which area of Stark Industries you wanted to know about - micro-technology, smartphones and tablets, renewable energy, a host of others - and a suit resembling Iron Man’s own would creep up on you where you stood. The next thing you knew you would be watching the history of all the work in that division and the suit would hoist you up and down and left and right and occasionally splash water at you or activate the heater or release the smell of chocolate and it was all so _ wonderful_. There was a long queue for each of the immersive suits and Harry was about to suggest that they check out another section of the lobby first when he heard a yelp and felt Peter dive behind him in cover.

“Is that Gwen? Why is she here? _ Shit _ I didn’t even comb my hair this morning, help me Harry!”

_ Ah. _ Harry smirked.

Sweeping his eyes across the lobby Harry squinted until he spotted a head of familiar blonde hair amidst a sea of people. True enough, Peter’s ‘one true love, mother of his seven children and owner of his heart’ was standing in front of a wall displaying interactive profiles of the Avengers, having an animated conversation with a Black Widow hologram. Harry veered away from Peter, leaving his friend exposed. Peter hissed and scrambled after him.

“Don’t do that! I’m dead if she sees me! Can we go now, please, please, _ please _?”

Harry let out a guffaw. “Fine, let’s go up now, then. There are too many people here to do anything productive anyway.”

“Thank you, you’re my saviour. I’ll do anything you need me to from now on, I will worship the ground you walk on, and I promise to stop peeking at your messages,” Peter said in a low voice as he tiptoed beside his amused friend, still using Harry as a human shield from Gwen’s line of vision.

The invitation card said to go up to the Dome on the 37th floor by scanning the same barcode on the reader at the gantry of the lift lobby. A bright yellow number ‘6’ flashed on the screen, directing the two boys to the lift nearest to them on the right. The doors opened on cue just as they reached it, almost as if it could sense them approaching. Stepping into the lift they were rewarded with soft elevator music, a respite from the noise and bustle that was happening outside.

It was a glass elevator, like something straight out of Willy Wonka’s factory. As they ascended Harry looked out the glass panel overlooking downtown Manhattan, not being able to stop himself from letting a gasp escape.

“Pete, check out this view!” He exclaimed to Peter, who was busy investigating the virtual floor selector that took the place of where a regular lift button panel would be.

“Holy shit, this view is sick! Central Park looks so tiny from up here. And,” Peter pressed his face to the glass, using his hands to create goggles around his eyes, “Is that the Empire State Building?”

A robotic male voice answered. “No, that’s the Bank of America Tower. The Empire State Building is actually on the left side, not the front.”

“WHAT THE HELL?”

“WHO SAID THAT?”

“I’m E.N.A.M., your personal companion for Lift 6. Welcome to Stark Tower, Mr Parker and Mr Osborn.”

“Harry? Why can a lift hear us and answer our questions and know our names?” Peter whimpered.

“Mr Parker, please do not be alarmed,” E.N.A.M. replied with a hint of amusement. “Mr Stark and his team have programmed personal companions in each of the lifts to guide and provide assistance to visitors to the Stark Tower. We’re approaching the 37th floor soon, so if you want to catch a glimpse of the Empire State Building, you’d best look out your left now.”

Neither Harry nor Peter dared to move, opting instead to remain frozen until the doors opened again when they scurried out, ignoring E.N.A.M.’s cheerful farewell. A signboard bearing the words ‘THE DOME’ and an arrow pointing to the left was placed some distance in front of the lifts, but it was clearly a practical joke (no doubt by Tony Stark) since The Dome was visibly marked by large letters overhead a set of white double doors. Scores of other hopefuls were piling in and Harry recognised some of them from his neighbourhood, but it seemed like even people who were not from New York had come in for the SITH. No surprise there; it was a small sacrifice to pay for a chance at working in the biggest tech conglomerate in the world. The thought of going head to head against other talents made him sweat again, but he was glad he had his best friend along with him for the ride.

“Thanks for doing this with me.”

Peter turned to face him with an encouraging smile. “Don’t mention it, brother. I’m just here for fun and to hopefully see Mr Stark. You know I literally can’t get into programming the way you do. You’ve tried! I failed. So this is all for you. You’re gonna do -” Peter dipped to a half squat position and pumped his fists into the air with a cheer (roar?). “You’re gonna do great. I can tell. I’m psychic like that. Have a sixth sense about these things. It’s my Peter Tingle.”

Harry could not help but laugh, despite the strange looks they received from the people still outside The Dome, as he pulled the other boy up from his ridiculous position. “Okay, okay, I get it, you’re my biggest fan. I’m gonna win this and get you all the meetings with Tony Stark that you want. And when I work on stuff maybe I’ll even let you give me your opinions on how the gadgets should work, in addition to your regular role as my coffee maker and lunch chef.”

“Didn’t we make a coffee machine just so we’d avoid this very situation?”

“We can discuss the terms of your employment after we find seats.”

*****

The Dome was a circular auditorium with pristine white walls. Five rings of seats encircled a platform in the middle of the auditorium, and there were four projectors mounted on the circumference of the ceiling, marking out four quarters. With the auditorium almost filled, Harry and Peter spent some time looking for adjacent empty seats, but the only ones they could find were a trio of chairs in the innermost ring, straight down from the doors and closest to the centre. Deciding that being at the very front was better than being split up if they took less conspicuous places, they settled down, leaving the seat by the aisle empty.

While they were joking about the chores that Peter would do for Harry and discussing where they would go for dinner tomorrow after the hackathon ended, a girl slid into the remaining seat beside Peter, who had his back turned towards her while facing Harry. Harry swallowed a laugh and cut off Peter’s extolations of Subway by tapping his knee and bending forward conspiratorially.

“Penis.”

Peter jerked backwards in alarm and looked behind Harry. He frowned and leaned back in, questioning, “What, now? Here?”

Harry shrugged, looking at Peter expectantly.

His brown-haired friend pursed his lips, before letting out a defeated, “Penis.”

“That wasn’t louder than mine.”

“No, you’re not scamming me out of this. Yours was a whisper, don’t try to pretend otherwise.”

“Fine,” Harry smirked. “Penis,” he repeated, at a volume that was just barely enough to draw attention to what he was saying.

Peter crouched down, trying to hide his face under the table. “Penis!”

The girl beside Peter whipped her head around just as Peter drew himself back up to his normal height. Harry’s eyes shifted from Peter’s to hers, and with a smile and wave he called out to her.

“Hi Gwen! You’re here too!”

Gwen responded with a frown and a slight nod, returning her attention to the stage in the middle. Peter stared at Harry with his mouth hanging wide open as his face turned crimson. Harry returned an innocent grin, and it was probably less than he deserved when Peter punched his arm hard and erupted in a whisper-yell.

“Screw you, Harry Osborn! You did that on purpose, asshole! I hate you, you’re -”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” a booming voice emerged over the speakers, interrupting Peter’s outburst. Harry chuckled and leaned back in his seat, thankful that the timing of the announcement saved him any more verbal abuse from his deeply embarrassed mate. Peter turned away from him fuming but, upon realising that turning the other way meant facing Gwen Stacy instead, instinctively shifted again to face Harry. This resulted in him comically twisting in his seat for a few moments before finally settling for leaning forward and propping his chin up with his hands, elbows on the table.

“Welcome to the inaugural Stark Industries Talent Hackathon,” a middle-aged man dressed in a smart suit greeted. Stepping onto the platform in the middle of The Dome he spread his arms, gesturing to the crowd. “It pleases me to no end to see so many budding young talents who are invested in technology of the future. My name is Klaus Haas, and I head the R&D division here at AccuTech, housed within Stark Industries. As all of you know, Stark Industries is a leading corporation specialising in practically every aspect of technology. Our work here involves discovering, refining, and perfecting technology that makes everyone’s lives better. So whether you have a bustling mind full of original ideas or a programmer who can make things come alive, Stark Industries and AccuTech would have a place for you.

“Our visionary of a leader, Mr Tony Stark, saw that it was time to look beyond the next ten or twenty years of technological advancement. He said we needed to consider how the next generation will experience technology, and how the generation after that is going to develop what we have. I told him that was absolutely true, sir, unless we all die in the next alien invasion. That, ladies and gentlemen, is the number one way to end up on the toilet cleaning duty roster.”

Laughter coursed through The Dome. It was no secret that the Chitauri attack three years ago had left the city disoriented and in shambles. The citizens of New York had gathered together, shaken, and was just about to finish rebuilding the damage that had been caused when Ultron happened and tried to wipe out all of humanity. Since then, New Yorkers have just resigned to being collateral damage whenever the Avengers invited extraterrestrial beings or superpowered robots to fight in their home turf.

“As the newest member on the cleanliness team, then, I will leave you in the more capable presence of our CEO himself, Mr Tony Stark, to address you. Take it from me, you’ll want to laugh at his jokes even if they aren’t funny. There would be consequences otherwise.”

“Scram, Haas, you’re ruining my appetite.”

Klaus Haas gave the audience a dramatic wink before stepping off the stage with a flourish. Suddenly, four Tony Stark faces appeared in the space above the platform, each facing a quadrant of the room. An audible gasp echoed throughout The Dome as the holograms peered down at the hundreds of people seated.

“Is the visual on? F.R.I.D.A.Y., could you - yes? Alright. Well, hello folks. Good to see you all, except, you know, I can’t actually see you. I’d be seeing four screens but you would just be seeing one of me turning my head everywhere, it just doesn’t make sense. Actually, let’s see if it could work. F.R.I.D.A.Y., initiate Dome cams. Right, here we go. Ah! I’ve got all of you now, my sheep. Okay, from the top. God, this is embarrassing.”

The holograms disappeared with a fizzle. Following a stunned silence, the crowd began to stir before the four Tony Stark faces appeared again, this time sporting a confident grin, looking straight into the camera.

“Hello, folks. It must be good to see me here. Now, I’m not saying that Stark Industries is the only company that is living in the 21st century. Vertech comes close; they’re probably in 1998 now, with their cute little AMOLED touchscreens. I’m not saying that Stark Industries is, oh I don’t know, where everybody’s wildest dreams come to life. And when I say wildest dreams, you know I mean it. Especially those involving spanking. Mmm. I’m not saying that Stark Industries is popular only across seven continents, a hundred and eighty countries, and among billions of men and women. Even the rock down on 46th Street has heard of what Stark Industries can do, and I’m hoping there aren’t any rocks among you. What I am saying, before I rush off for my baking lesson at 2, is that today you’ll be creating your own piece of technology with whatever - okay, not whatever, the kids’ version - the junior version of what Stark Technologies has to offer. SI Junior. Whoever has the best piece, judged by the tirelessly rebellious Klaus Haas, and the lovely, lovely Ms Potts, gets a year-long access to the most perfect cheeseburgers ever made. Heads up, hands off.”

Harry barely had any time to process what that instruction meant when the tabletop suddenly started folding upon itself, and a virtual screen shot up before him. Simultaneously, a virtual keyboard appeared on the table that had rearranged to form a workspace for their invention.

He turned to Peter, and saw his friend gaping at the screen in awe. Harry was inexplicably filled with the urge to laugh. This was actually happening. He was getting a shot at trying out Stark technology, and who knows what he could do with this advanced level of tech. Turning back to his screen, he reached out his hand and hovered his index finger over the “LOGIN” circle. Inching his finger closer he seemed to touch the button. Except, of course, there was no physical sensation. The log-in screen was already loading when Harry realised his finger had gone through the virtual button and he was now essentially poking at thin air behind where the screen was displayed.

Withdrawing his hand in embarrassment he rubbed his palms together. Beside him, Peter was still immobile, clearing still reeling from the magic that was Stark tech. Harry nudged him and cocked his head towards the screen, raising his eyebrows. The other boy turned back to the screen, still wide-eyed, as he held out a quivering finger to the “LOGIN” circle.

“... and the winner will get a year-long internship here with us, no big deal. Oh, except it kinda is, because if we decide you’re not a complete washup we’ll work magic for you. Now, this competition will only have one winner, so you could collaborate if you want, but only the winning name gets the cheese. We technically could hire a couple more of you as interns, but that would mean sacrificing the daily ice sculpture of my handsome likeness, which I absolutely need so that Ms Potts can be reminded of how lucky she is. Alright, that’s it from me, try not to screw things up or destroy my auditorium. Peace!”

For the second time that afternoon Tony Stark’s image crackled out of view, but this time instead of a stunned silence the air was pregnant with anticipation when Klaus Haas returned to the stage for a final address. “So there you have it, from the man himself. Before I leave you, there are a couple more administrative issues I have to go through. The competition ends at 8PM tomorrow, which means you have 30 hours to complete your project. Toilets are outside and there are vending machines along the western corridor on this floor…”

“Psst.”

Harry held up a hand, not turning to face his friend yet. He could feel Peter’s excitement abuzz and he, too, wanted to share in that excitement with his partner-in-crime, but Harry had to focus. Peter could afford to not listen since he was not planning on participating seriously anyway; Harry, on the other hand, could not let anything distract him from gaining any advantage.

“... These modules will give you a basic feel of how to use and manage the technology in front of you. It’s especially useful for those of you who have never dabbled in virtual tech before and used physical computers your whole life. The lessons will just keep going on for about fifteen rounds, I think, and the system will give you feedback on how well you completed the module, but you can skip ahead at any time once you think you’ve gotten enough. Finally, though the deadline for submission of your projects is at 8PM tomorrow, you can enter a submission any time before that. We will factor in time taken to complete your project as part of the judging criteria, meaning two entries of equal calibre will be scored based on whichever was submitted first. Now, touch the ‘LOGIN’ button if you haven’t already, and scan your invitation. We do still have eight more minutes, so relax, take deep breaths, and I’ll be here to start the game at 2.”

Even before Klaus Haas walked off the platform, the room erupted in exclamations, with everyone rushing to lay their hands on the fruit of Stark Industries. It was no surprise that merely the “junior version” of the most cutting-edge technology in the world presented itself with such sleek interface and intuitive controls. It was as if the programme itself could read your mind prior to the action you executed. Harry traced his finger over the virtual interface and found himself entranced by how easily the icons glided under his touch. He smiled at the string of icons that had obediently followed his finger as he did a little loop-de-loop on the ‘screen’. Suddenly a piece of paper shaking violently blocked his entire vision.

“We have to scan our invitation, right?”

_ Right. _

Peter waited for him to fish his invitation out of his bag and the two boys held their barcodes in front of the scanner, looking at each other with wide grins.

“Ready?”

“One…”

“Two…”

A ripple of colourful LED-like lights fluttered outwards from where the invitation was scanned, filling the entire space of their screens. After a second’s delay, the colours started rearranging themselves, eventually forming the words “WELCOME TO THE STARK INDUSTRIES TALENT HACKATHON” and their names underneath. Beside them, Gwen Stacy’s screen lit up the same way, and soon everyone in The Dome was facing a rainbow-coloured greeting.

Peter was positively vibrating. “I can’t believe I’m here seeing this with my own eyes! Look at this - the screen has the technical capability of selectively withholding the low-density energy mass which forms the basis of its display, like how flat screen TVs were first made. Throw in a bit of magnetic directional control and did you see how the colours zipped around just now? The core that’s powering this must be super durable for them to move so quickly. And dude, I’m pretty sure they perfected the heat-movement delay to make it almost zero. That’s a genius way to make use of the body’s natural heat emission to anticipate where your finger’s gonna go. Shit, Harry, if this is just basic level tech here, imagine what we could do when we’ve got access to the whole thing!”

Harry felt his blood run cold in a second. “We?”

Peter faltered, and Harry felt bad for him when he backtracked, “Oh no, no, I meant you. Duh. Sorry. I forgot we weren’t in school. It just came out, you know? The science is exciting, that’s all I’m saying. I could never hack it here. Aha, get it?” Peter nudged him with a wink and a smile that did not quite reach his eyes.

Placing one hand on each of Peter’s shoulders Harry guided Peter’s body to face him. “You know I need this. You know I need to get away from that psycho. There’s only one slot in this internship, you heard the man. And there’s nothing more than I want to have you around and to work on cool shit together, but Peter,” Harry pleaded, “Let me have this, please.”

Peter frowned and swatted his hands away. Shaking his head, he said, “No, no, no, Harry, I am not taking anything from you. I literally just said, and have been saying, that I’m here to support you and watch you win this competition. What I said just now - it doesn’t mean anything. I guess I’m just used to working with you all the time. Something like this got me excited about what we could do together, but that’s only because you’re my best partner and you don’t know how proud I am of you that you’re here. Trust me, I’m cheering you on.” He offered a small smile to Harry, and Harry realised with horror how poorly he had treated his number one supporter in his competitive paranoia. He pulled Peter in for a hug and apologised, relieved when his friend patted his back in comfort.

Breaking apart, Harry noticed Klaus Haas standing a little offside the main circle, going through some papers. Glancing at the wall clock he saw that it was just 1.55PM; five more minutes.

“Hey, go pee if you need to. I’m gonna go down to chat with Klaus Haas.”

“What? Harry, it’s five more minutes. Where are you going?”

Harry gave his friend a dismissive wave and shuffled past Gwen’s chair, resolutely marching to the Head of R&D in AccuTech.

“Mr Haas, sir?”

Klaus Haas looked up from the papers, cocking his head when he saw Harry. “Yes?”

“Sir, I was just wondering… Will the winner of the competition be announced immediately after the hackathon ends? Or will we be notified after we go home?”

Haas let out a contemplative whistle at his question. “Shoots, I must have forgotten to mention it. Basically, once everyone’s submissions have been received, Peps and I - sorry, Ms Potts and I - will sit in for the project presentation and Q&A. After that there will be some activities for you guys while we deliberate, and the results will be known by midnight.”

“Right, thank you! I’m really looking forward to trying out whatever Stark has to offer.”

Klaus Haas gave him a wink. “Aren’t we all, kid?”

Harry turned and pretended to take a few steps away before approaching Haas again. “Sir, is it true that the programmers here haven’t had success cracking the code on digitalising solar energy for wide-scale use?”

Haas narrowed his eyes at Harry, but gave him a smirk. “I won’t comment on that, kid, but if you think you’ve done enough homework then just go on ahead and try it out.”

A bubble of excitement rose in Harry’s chest. “Yes, sir, I’ll work on it. Thanks so much, Mr Haas!”

“Kid, what’s your name?”

Harry gulped. “I’m Harry Osborn, sir,” he replied, extending his hand to shake the older man’s. His handshake was returned with a firm grip and a low chuckle. “Harry Osborn, alright. Do your best, son.”

Harry was not sure how he managed to get back to his seat after that, with his legs shaking the way they did and his breathing deciding to go out of order. He was not even sure what that interaction meant. Did he stand a better chance now? Was what Klaus Haas said some kind of clue? Should he pursue what he originally planned (translating the brain’s electrical signals into codes that allowed for memories to be replayed) or should he change directions and work on his back-up, solar power plan? Why did Klaus Haas ask for his name? Would that give him an edge when Haas and Potts saw his name on his entry? Or had he completely botched it and come across as a conniving, competitive asshole? What if it was a demerit point against him?

He did not even hear Peter’s urgent whispers checking in on him, and he was sure his voice had left him while he was still reeling and processing the interaction with Haas. All too soon, Klaus Haas returned to the platform, pulling up four holographic countdowns for 30 hours in the same space that Tony Stark’s holographic faces had occupied earlier.

“Hope everyone’s back, because if they aren’t, they’re gonna miss out on this epic countdown. The time now is 2PM. Go break some eggs, folks!”

In an explosion of virtual fireworks, the big, red numbers “30:00:00” changed to “29:59:59”, and distantly Harry felt Peter’s reassuring hand on his shoulder. In front of him, the brightly lit screen issued the biggest challenge that he would be undertaking in his life so far.

“Mr Harry OSBORN, TOUCH ‘START’ TO BEGIN THE HACKATHON.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this the way a real life hackathon works? I don't know, but let's pretend in this universe that it is.


	2. America's Next Top 3D Model

_ This is… tedious. _

As it turned out, the introductory modules that Klaus Haas mentioned packed much more than he let on. Harry thought he did fine for Module 1: The Illusion of Touch. It was a quick-and-easy module on navigating and manoeuvring the interface using the virtual sequence operator, which was kinda cool… for the first ten times he did it. For some reason Harry never managed to achieve a 100% on the scoreboard, even though he thought he summoned the apple, whistled for the dog, and fed it the apple almost perfectly. The A.I. told him his average score hovered around 80%. Once, he managed to get 85, but he spent so long pinching the damn apple and carrying it with such precision into the dog’s mouth that his hand muscles ached from merely holding the virtual icon. If he were to work on his project any time in the next 29 hours, he had to move along, so he skipped to the next module whenever he felt like he had learnt what he needed to.

And there was just _ so much _ to learn. Harry always knew that no company in the world came close to matching Stark Industries’ tech, but having the physical experience of working with the legendary tech gave him adrenaline rushes he never thought possible. This was the stuff of the future, not of 2015. It was crazy to see how easily the A.I. responded to his hands and his voice. Thanks to the machine’s deep learning, the more he powered through the modules, the more responsive they became to his ministrations, and by the end of Module 7: America’s Next Top 3D Model, Harry felt like the system was made for him.

Looking over at Peter beside him he felt a pang of guilt. His best friend’s screen was still on the welcome page, since Peter was too focused on Harry’s progress to bother trying the technology for himself. All this while Peter had been cheering him on - quite literally, much to the annoyance of everyone sitting within a 3-seat radius of them - and telling him he could do it. Every time the completion report came up Harry could hear Peter chanting, “100, 100, 100,” under his breath, and he felt sorry that he doubted his friend at all earlier on.

_ I’m gonna have to make this up to him after this. Boy’s a saint. _

When he found that the 3D model of an armguard rendered sufficiently satisfactorily, despite the score of 60%, he tapped “Skip to Next Module” and realised that more than two hours had passed. Panic seized him as he jumped in fright, frantic to complete the tutorials. Peter was startled when he jumped, and he clutched Harry’s arm.

“What happened? What’s wrong?”

Harry gestured at the foreboding countdown. 27:52:47, 27:52:46…

The other teen frowned, also noticing the time for the first time since they started. As Harry started on Module 8: Tying It All Together, Peter inspected the progress of everyone else in the room, updating his friend who was speeding through the last, recap module.

“Couple of guys over there are still on the Voice Command module… Lots of people are still doing 3D Modelling… Oh, shit, there are, like, five people who have already started on their project, and I can’t really tell what they’re doing, but their hands are flying all over the place.”

Harry almost hyperventilated.

“No, no, Harry! Deep breaths. You know what you want and you know how to do it. Take it step by step. Remember the first step is to render an EEG so that you can see the brain’s electrical signals, then convert them -”

“Peter, Peter, stop, please. I’m not doing that anymore.”

Peter withdrew as if he had been slapped.

“Not… But that was our plan this whole time, wasn’t it,” Peter's weak voice cracked.

_ Right, I haven’t told him about the conversation with Klaus Haas. _

“No, just…” Harry glanced at the countdown, ticking away ominously. 27:48:23, 27:48:22…

Peter looked at him expectantly.

With a sigh, Harry pulled Peter close to him. He could not risk anyone else overhearing the conversation. “Remember how I went to talk to Haas earlier?” Harry felt an affirmative nod. “I asked him about SI’s progress with digitalising solar power, and he basically hinted that it was something I should be doing. Pete, I may have found a point of entry.”

“HOLY SHIT SO YOU'RE -"

Harry grabbed Peter's head and jammed it underneath the table.

"Ow! Okay, okay! Let me up!"

Harry nodded apologetically to the other competitors around him as Peter resurfaced. For someone whose head almost just got yanked off his shoulders, he was grinning too widely, and there was too much excitement in his eyes. He bounced in his seat, scooting closer to Harry as he giggled and asked, "So do you have a plan? Harry you did it, you genius, you're really gonna get in! I gotta tell May. This is the coolest, most awesome thing ever!" A high-pitched, falsetto note emitted from Peter and Harry was not sure whether to laugh or cry.

"Hey, Parker," a female voice floated over from the other side. Peter shot up, frozen for a second, before smoothing the front of his shirt with his hands and arranging his fringe. He spun around on his chair such that he faced her. “Hi! Gwen,” he squeaked. “What can I do you for?”

Gwen set down her work on the tabletop and turned slowly to face him. “You know, I’d really love it if…”

An audible gulp.

“... you kept your voice down for the next 20-odd hours? You’re being a bit distracting.”

Peter choked, and Harry let out a loud snigger. _ Love of his life, indeed. _

“Sure, sure, I will. Sorry!”

Gwen smiled politely and returned her attention to the screen while Peter buried his face in Harry’s shoulder with a groan.

“I messed up I messed up I messed up I messed up I messed up I’m dead I’m dead I’m dead I’m dead,” he mumbled into the fabric of Harry’s shirt. Harry hooted with laughter just as he finished the recap tutorial of Module 8, messing up Peter’s hair.

“You’ve got no game, mate. Direct all that pent-up energy to helping me with this, I’m done with the tutorials now.”

Peter remained stuck on Harry’s shoulder, which made Harry push his head off playfully. After pouting for a bit, Peter sobered up, remembering the good news that had led to his outburst in the first place.

The screen now displayed a menu of options by the left panel; options that were covered in the introduction modules. The main body of the screen, in the middle, was an empty section, and the right panel was to show a 3D model of the project. Harry tried tapping on the body field, and typed in a simple command.

“Print… Zero…”

The number 0 appeared on the right side of the screen. Peter stared at it for a bit before turning to his friend. “What now, boss?”

Harry smirked. “Now, oh great genius scientist, we get to work on rendering a solar grid.”

*****

For the next half hour, the pair of best friends went through the prototype of the solar suit projector, just like they had done so many times before when working on schoolwork together. There was something seamless about the way they communicated ideas to each other, with one boy picking up immediately where the other’s ideas ended. Harry would suggest something to include in the suit projector, like a cooling unit for the wearer who was going to be exposed to loads of sunlight, and Peter would chime in with a feasibility assessment of whether the 15kg, densely-packed suit would be able to contain the amount of solar energy needed to power a generator for ten minutes in case of a blackout. Harry would then suggest filing two more layers for the intergenerativity effect to take place while the wearer was in flight, but Peter pointed out that filing the layers would not only sacrifice efficiency, it would also physically weaken the biochemistry of the wearer due to the inability of the suit to discern between the energy to transport and the energy of the human being locked into the suit. Unless, Harry counter-argued, they put in a code that manipulated the energy based on the time it entered the suit projector...

It was difficult for anyone watching them to not be amazed by how the minds of these young prodigies worked. The way they bounced ideas off each other and corrected the other’s mistakes, ultimately leading to a competent, fully functional product, was the equivalent of a scientific and technological symphony. More than a few people in their vicinity looked over and eavesdropped in envy before shaking their heads and returning to their own project. Harry was aware of these stares being sent their way, and inwardly thanked Peter again for accompanying him to the SITH without being his competition. He knew that there were other groups of friends who came together, but had to work individually because of the cutthroat competition. The fact that Peter was content to be his support and sounding board gave him the biggest advantage he knew, and not for the first time that afternoon Harry felt shame burn within him as he recalled his moment of suspicion.

Eventually the boys agreed on the workings of the prototype, and Harry began to write the codes earnestly. From the corner of his eye he could see Peter spinning around on his chair, humming a tune from Aladdin. Occasionally he would prop his head up and watch Gwen Stacy work in a totally, non-creepy fashion, but the girl seemed unfazed as she focused on building some kind of ring. After a couple of hours, Peter, understandably bored out of his mind, tapped Harry on the shoulder.

“I’m going out for a stretch and to get some food, d’you want some?”

Harry shook his head. “I’ll grab dinner after. Hey, do you think you could sit here and help me make sure no one touches my screen while I’m out later?”

Peter placed a hand to his chest and gasped in mock horror. “Harry Theopolis Osborn, am I no more than a guard dog to you now? All these years of friendship, too. You could have told me earlier and saved me this emotional pain.” He wiped an imaginary tear from his eye.

Harry snorted, pulling out a five-dollar note from his wallet. “Go, you inbred. Get yourself some bacon while you’re at it.”

The brown-haired teen stuck his tongue out and danced away, waving the bill in the air. Harry smiled fondly as he turned back to coding, but a soft cough interrupted his thoughts.

“So, uh… Osborn?”

Harry had a childish urge to cover his screen before responding to Gwen, but he quelled that urge just in time before she thought him an insecure loser. “Hey, Gwen. What’s up?” Gwen had, Harry noticed, cleared enough space in her body section such that he could not see much of what she type. The model in the right panel was also masked and pixelated. _ Shit, should have done that. Now my plans are in plain view. _

“Sorry to interrupt your programming, but I thought I’d ask you this while Parker’s away: does he have anything against me? I kept getting weird vibes from him the whole afternoon and it’s like sitting beside me put him on edge or something. I wanted to ask because - uh, I was just… curious.”

She bit her lower lip, averting Harry’s gaze, and that was when it clicked for Harry. _ Parker, my son, you’re gonna owe me so much more than a Thai meal after this. _

“Gwen, Peter doesn’t have a single bad bone in his body. I can guarantee you that he does not have anything against you. In fact - and I think he’ll kill me for telling you this, but I don’t want it to come across as creepy or whatever - he admires you very much. For your brilliant intellect and your kindness in general. It used to make him constipated that he was never on the receiving end of your kindness, but that’s only because the loser’s too shy to say hi to you at all. I told him, of course you’re not going to get any interaction with Gwen if you keep skulking around her like a dirty stalker, but up till now he still hasn’t had the courage to do anything about it. Don’t tell him I told you any of this, though.”

Gwen’s face flushed pink, and the smile on her face got wider and wider, even though she tried her hardest to suppress it. At the end of Harry’s speech she nodded resolutely and told him that she would speak to Peter after the hackathon was over, and Harry promptly invited her to their post-hackathon dinner. _ Best wingman ever _, he praised himself.

It was not until a while later that Peter returned with half-finished food. Laying the tray of potato salad on his table he began recounting the story of how he had met one of the people working in Stark Industries while loitering about the eastern lounge. He was a guy slightly older than them from the Engineering Division, and it turned out that he, too, was awarded some kind of scholarship (“He wasn’t clear about it. Glossed over it pretty quickly, actually. Suspicious.”) that let him live in Stark Tower, just like the SITH winner would. Currently his primary job was to help out with some of the A.I. that Tony Stark used.

“He was the one who was in charge of programming the voices in the lifts! I told him about how Lift Number 6 freaked us out on our way up here and he couldn’t stop laughing. And that’s the story of why I’m late. Because I was talking to Harvey - Harley? Harvey? Harley. Either one of them. I mentioned you and how you’re practically gonna win this thing, and he agreed with your idea too! I also told him about how I didn’t have the brains for things like that, but it turns out that the Scientific Development Division is planning to host something like this next year, so mate,” Peter’s voice broke with anticipation, “This time next year we could be colleagues!”

Harry shook his head in disbelief. _ While you were gone I thought I did you a solid, but Peter Parker, you’ve outdone yourself. I take that back. If I get this job I will be the one worshipping the ground you walk on. _

Between the munches of the potato salad, Harry had drawn up a decent chunk of the code of the suit projector. Peter had eventually decided to try out the modules because “I’m gonna die of boredom soon. Besides, it’ll be fun. I saw you do it, so now all I have to do is beat your high score. Whee!” This quest proved to be futile, however, as Peter’s scores averaged out to be about 70. Since Peter had nothing to do, he played with the tutorials and completed all fifteen attempts for each module, his boredom edging him on to beat Harry’s achievement evaluation.

When Peter was at attempt 12 of Module 5, Harry’s stomach emitted a thunderous growl. It was already 9PM; Harry had been working on the screen for seven hours straight. Standing up to stretch he noticed that The Dome was about half empty, with everyone else presumably gone to have their dinner or to rest in the lounge. Those remaining were still diligently working on their projects, and from what Harry could see some of their work was quite outstanding.

Minimising his work window with a wave of his hand, Harry bumped Peter with his hip. “It’s my turn to go to the lounge. Want any more food?”

Peter glanced up as his hands were pinching a virtual crystal, his mouth twisted into a crooked smirk. “Well, well, well, look how the tables have turned. I’d like a bowl of don wagyu, some foie gras, and a glass of Cheval Blanc, 1947. If you can’t get those, I’m docking your pay, but I can settle for two tuna rice balls, please. Second vending machine from the right. I wanted to try it just now after smelling Harley’s food but I didn’t have any more cash. Thanks, Harry!”

Harry pat Peter’s head twice (to his indignance) and made his way out of The Dome. Nightfall meant that the 37th lobby was illuminated by a warm, orange chandelier, giving it a completely different feel compared to when it was lit by sunlight. There was something about the atmosphere in the lobby at night that lent to its elegance; one that you felt compelled to match. Without quite realising it himself Harry strode with poise towards the lounge, satisfied with the approval that he felt radiating from the chandelier.

The lounge was carpeted in red, along with several red sofas and armchairs lined on either side of a long, glass coffee table. Vending machines of all sorts were flushed against a wall on the right, dispensing everything from food and drinks to stationery. Further in the back was a pool table and a TV hooked up to a gaming console, and off to the side was a standing bar and sink. The lounge was not completely crowded, but a good half of the people who came for the hackathon were taking a well-deserved break. Two big groups of friends were each playing pool and Mario Kart, while other, smaller groups or pairs of friends were sprawled all over the chairs or drinking at the bar.

Harry pricked his ears up to listen for any conversations about his competitors’ inventions as he made his way towards the second vending machine from the right, but all he was able to catch were mundane conversation topics like school and gossip. He supposed it was natural that no one was willing to share their ideas and what they have done so far, since each entry was to be unique. Harry thanked his lucky stars again that Peter went all out to help him, and he could have someone to discuss his project with without fearing that they would use it for their own purpose.

_ Tuna rice balls… Ooh, they have takoyaki balls too… How does everything look so good? _

Cradling the tuna rice balls, takoyaki balls, and three egg sandwiches, Harry reached the door just as another big group of SITH attendees entered and held the door open for him. “Thanks,” he called out, grateful that he did not have to do the whole push-the-door-with-his-butt thing.

“Honey I’m home,” Harry chimed as he laid all the food out on his and Peter’s table. His friend, who was laying his head on his table, gave no reaction. Clearly, the day had exhausted him, and if his screen flashing ‘Module 6: Render Me Speechless. 45%. Attempts: 15/15.’ was any indication, his goal of beating Harry’s assessment scores had been long-forgotten. He was now just completing the modules to pass the time.

The Dome was practically empty; apart from Peter, only about ten other people were left. Half of them were taking a quick nap, dozing off at their workstation, while the other half were still focused on propelling through their coding.

_ Mmm… A little exploration never hurt anyone… _

Harry glided over the rest of The Dome, bringing up the work windows of other attendees and glancing through some of their work, trying to remain as inconspicuous in his movement as possible. There were some cool inventions going on apart from those that he spied on earlier: a mechanical arm that could toggle between fire and ice (basically Iron Man plus Frozone), a pair of spectacles that was supposed to display the biodata of any person it is locked onto, a hoverboard - Harry skipped that one for personal reasons - and a multipurpose lawnmower. He was about to return to his seat from the fifth, outermost ring of seats when the image that appeared upon Harry maximising the work window was a familiar one that caught his eye. Harry felt his stomach drop.

Forget familiar, this was _ identical _. Harry furiously scrolled through the code that had been typed, and found that it was exactly the same as what he had done, even ending where he had just stopped before going to the lounge. He peeked over the screen and realised with a sinking gut that his workstation was clearly visible. The person sitting here must have used some sort of device to zoom in on his screen and lifted his code wholesale.

Rage coursed through Harry’s veins as he hammered on that person’s workstation. This drew the attention of two people nearby, and Harry was reminded of the need to be as invisible as possible. But how could he, when all the hard work he had put in for the last six hours was just blatantly plagiarised by this person who could do so just because they came earlier? His fists were shaking as he sat down at the person’s seat. It was only when he heard some people coming back into The Dome that he realised he probably should not be seen there.

But what could he do? He was not going to let the person get away with this. Having come so far and worked so hard, he was not about to let a lousy copycat ride on his efforts. As more and more people came in the stress began to overwhelm Harry, and he was on the verge of an anger breakdown when he realised the solution was in front of him all along.

_ If ‘exttemp’ equals… Bring this up… 250 to 400… Override… This should change the parameters enough for it to be unviable. _

Peter woke up with a start when Harry crashed into his chair. “Whoa, what’s - YAY! Tuna rice rolls!” Peter grabbed one gleefully and began wolfing it down. Harry was still seething, the rage resulting in a deafening roar in his ears. He could not hear Peter’s happy compliments about the rice ball, nor did it register when more people started to return from the lounge. All he knew was that he needed to get work done, and fast, before the person came back. Firing up the screen Harry’s fingers raced across the virtual keyboard, checking his codes for one last time and deciding that he would not dare to scroll back up in case the person could see that he made some changes. He felt his eyes start to water and he was not sure if that was from the feeling of defeat, from the anger, or from the sheer emotion he felt when he saw his work on another person’s terminal, but regardless of the origin he had a job to do. He had an internship to score, and he had a score to settle.

At some point Peter must have realised that Harry was not in any mood to discuss anything and, after much prodding and concern, Peter elected to leave Harry alone. He was like that sometimes; when he was too preoccupied with something, all his senses shut down and only his mind was at work. Shrugging as he finished his second tuna rice ball, he continued with the America’s Next Top 3D Model module. When Harry was ready, he would be there. Now, he had one last chance to beat Harry’s highscore, and after averaging a 70% in the six modules so far he was so pumped to beat Harry out in this last one. It was fine. A strong finish is what everyone looks for, right? He so got this. His Peter Tingles were telling him so. He was gonna emerge victorious and Harry would be begging him for mercy and…

Module 7: America’s Next Top 3D Model. 50%. Attempts: 15/15.

“Lame,” Peter scoffed. Beside him, Harry’s eyes shifted to his screen for the first time since coming back from the lounge. Frowning, Harry reverted his attention to his codes. This section on regulating the parallel frequencies that managed astrothermal properties required his full attention; one wrong move and the wearer would freeze to death at a mere 3km above sea level. He was vaguely aware that a while later, Peter left his seat, presumably to go to the toilet, but he had to blaze through this section line by line before he got caught up and confused himself.

19:49:24, 19:49:23…

Harry stretched, allowing his backbone and arms to feel relief they had been deprived of for the past three hours. He had gotten through the toughest part of his code; the rest were stuff that were tedious but necessary, and it was on grounds where Harry felt a lot more comfortable.

With Harry throwing himself into the codes in the three hours that had passed, he allowed himself to be distracted by the necessity of the work that needed to be done. Now that he had hit a break, he felt ready to tell Peter what he had witnessed after his lounge run.

Except Peter was nowhere to be seen. Harry was about to turn to punch Peter in the arm when he realised that he could only see Gwen Stacy.

_ What? _

Peter’s screen was blank, which was strange. Did he ever get around to finishing the modules? Or had he given up and gone for a walk around the Tower like he said he would?

Noticing that the food he had bought was still on Peter’s table, he reached out to grab a sandwich when a piece of scrap paper with Peter’s messy handwriting caught his eye.

_ Got a message after Mod. 7 telling me to go to the labs on the 62nd floor because I ‘need some help understanding the interface’. wtf, ikr? I’m going anyway because I finished the modules and I’m bored and you’re stewing. Plus this is my chance to _ _ you know what _ _ . ;) call me when you’re done! _

Harry laughed. Trust Peter to get himself into a situation where he was singled out for being incompetent. If anything the boy was a genius... just not in this area. Harry figured it would do some good for him too; he finally got the chance to do something he wanted to, instead of loyally sticking by Harry despite his boredom. Knowing him, he was probably traipsing around the entire Stark Tower, touching paintings and making statues fall. That guy had no sense of subtlety. Just as well, then. Peter deserved the break.

Gobbling down the other two sandwiches, Harry looked around The Dome. Most of the people were asleep by now, wrapped up in blankets that they had brought. Some of them were scrolling through their phones. God knows what the person sitting behind him on the fifth row was doing, but Harry did not want to bring suspicion to himself. He would just have to keep going and hope the person did not re-edit whatever he changed.

It was just after 6AM when Harry finally finished the first draft of his full code. Everyone else he could see was knocked out, and Harry was just about to join them in a nap when he felt the urgent need to visit the toilet. He needed his guard dog back, especially if that person behind was going to come down and sneak a look at his work.

A tacky polyphonic track played in his ears as he dialled Peter’s number. After a long time he was sent to voicemail. That idiot was probably too busy having fun and did not notice the call.

Harry sent a message, and tried calling him again. Voicemail.

The third time had Harry annoyed, but by the time he got to the fifth call Harry began to get worried. Finally, Peter picked up the call on his sixth try.

“Pete, finally! Hey, I need you to come back, I gotta go -”

“Harry?” Answered a female voice.


	3. Chocolate Ice Cream Twenty-Six V

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hold on tight, it's a wild finish. Tags are updated.

Harry checked his phone’s screen to make sure he dialled the right number. The picture of Peter pushing up his nose and making a piggy face greeted him.

“Uh, who’s this, and how do you have Peter’s phone?”

“Mr Harry, this is Camilla. The owner of this phone has dropped it in Stark Tower and it was returned to us at the lost-and-found. Do you think you could contact the owner and let him know that his phone is here? The address is 200 Park Avenue. Our security personnel will -”

“Hey, Camilla, no, sorry, hi, I’m actually in Stark Tower. Peter and I are here for the Hackathon. Do you think I could pop over to you and grab the phone back?”

“Oh,” Camilla’s surprised voice was followed by some whispers. “Okay, can I have your name, please, just to run it through our database. Oh, and the name of your friend, too.”

After confirming his particulars and receiving directions, Harry saved his work and carefully minimised his work window. Gwen was asleep, so he could not task her to watch his screen. Ah, heck, he would just have to risk it and hope no one else stole his design. Then again, at this hour, with only 13 hours left to go, it would take a lot of effort to go through his entire programme anyway. Pulling on his jacket he quickly shuffled out of The Dome, waiting for the lift to bring him down to the 15th floor.

The Tower was so huge that it took him some time to locate the lost-and-found counter, but when he eventually did Camilla had been very kind in helping him verify his identity and returning Peter’s phone to him. After saying thanks to Camilla, Harry was about to head back to The Dome when he realised he was missing a crucial piece of information: if Peter’s phone was here, where was Peter?

“Sorry, Camilla, can I ask you if you might have any idea where Peter is? I just realised I wouldn’t be able to contact him.” He held up Peter’s phone helplessly.

“Please give me a moment, Mr Harry, I’ll call to see if there’s someone who might have an idea.”

Harry loitered around the area, taking in the design of the 15th floor. The theme of this lobby was very different from the 37th. There were splashes of red and black and white and everything looked angular, like some sort of art piece from an art period Harry could not place the name of. Various vases and pots of plants were scattered throughout the corridor, but none of them looked like they really belonged there. In the same way that the 37th floor exuded elegance, the 15th floor was suggestive of some sort of dissonance and rebellion. Harry was feeling just a bit jumpy when Camilla called out his name.

“Mr Harry, I have contacted our Head of Security. He should be here soon.”

Harry thanked her again, and sat on the velvet couch in anticipation. Not long later, a burly man in a suit stopped by the counter, and Harry got up with a shot of embarrassment.

It was Happy Hogan, the same man whom Peter had offended at the entrance.

If Happy recognised Harry, he gave no indication of acknowledgement. Putting his hands to his earpiece he communicated with the Stark Tower A.I., F.R.I.D.A.Y., and beckoned Harry over to inform him that Peter was in one of the labs on the 62nd floor.

“Lab 62F, just off your right when you step out the lift. Can’t miss it.”

Harry bowed - as if it could somehow make up for Peter’s behaviour the day before - and expressed his gratitude profusely before making his way up.

Just like Happy said, 62F was easy to find. As Harry approached the doors it sounded like there were tons of machines whirring inside. Out of the blue there were sounds of lasers shooting, and Harry instinctively ducked for cover, until he realised that those laser sounds were accompanied by two laughing voices, one of which sent a course of relief throughout his body.

Knocking sharply on the wooden door to the lab, Harry began to feel fatigue creeping up on him. Unlike many others in the auditorium, Harry had foregone a night of sleep to rush through his first draft. Now that the adrenaline from creating a suit worthy of Stark Industries and losing his friend had worn off, Harry’s eyes watered as he squeezed them shut mid-yawn.

“Uh…”

Harry regained his senses after the yawn and opened his eyes to find a tall, lanky boy leaning against the doorframe, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

_ Shit, that was embarrassing. _

He was about to open his mouth to ask if Peter were here when he heard a scream from inside the lab.

“HARRYYYYYYY!!”

Out of nowhere Peter tackled him, causing him to almost lose his balance and drop Peter’s phone. He staggered a few steps backwards, arms raised above his head as Peter wrapped him in a bone-crushing hug.

“Oh. My. God. Harry, you won’t believe what’s been going on here. I came up, and Harley was here, and he showed me the virtuogenerator and the blueprints and the plans for the personal recycler and he was just pinching and dragging and zooming all over the place, and then we had supper which was more tuna rice balls and then the music thingy asked me would I like a scan and I said yes and they just took lyrics right out of my brain and they played a mashup of all the songs! Then Harley told Dum-E to perform the extinguishow and that thing was so stupid, it thought I was on fire! I obviously wasn’t, but it thought I was, and Mr Stark told me about the first time when he made the suit and Dum-E...”

Throughout Peter’s verbal vomit Harry became more and more confused. He thought Peter had come up for remedial lessons on how to use SI Junior. What was this about blueprints and music and an extinguisher and Tony Stark’s story on a person called Dummy -

_ TONY STARK’S STORY? _

“... and I thought, hmmm, maybe the valve should be lowered so that it functions like a heart’s gateways, and we tested it out and it seemed to work! That was the most -”

“Peter, Peter, Peter, wait,” Harry interrupted, clamping his hands on the side of Peter’s head, “What do you mean - did you meet Tony Stark?”

Peter blinked a couple of times before breaking out into the broadest smile Harry had ever seen. “Harry, Harry, Harry, yes, I met Mr _ Tony freaking Stark _ . And he was the best, Harry. Exactly as I remember him from Stark Expo. He took a real interest in what I said, and I didn’t dare to ask him if he remembered me when I fought the Hammer drone, but I never thought I’d hear from him any more, you know?” Peter’s eyes glistened as he recalled the incident years ago, when Tony had stood beside him against one of Hammer’s robots. Harry knew that Peter often dreamt of the words that Iron Man had said to him just before he flew off. _ Nice work, kid. _

Harley cleared his throat from the doorway, and invited them both to continue their heart wrenching reunion in the lab where he did not have to stand and watch them. Walking into the lab Harry’s mind ran at a thousand miles per hour, wondering how Peter had ended up here for so long, but all his thoughts were arrested when he entered the lab.

The forefront of the lab had a sitting area with plush, metallic-coloured couches surrounding a circular glass table. Behind this area were some steps leading up to a raised platform that was built against a wide window. The platform itself was made of glass panels sparkling with electric blue patterns, framed by grilles, and lining the platform on its two short ends were counters that housed arms of machinery and virtual screens. Along the length of the platform on the other side the full window overlooked the grand display of the Manhattan skyline at sunrise, and Harry felt the most humbled he had ever been in his entire life while standing in such magnificence. He trod lightly towards the platform, jaw hanging, as if drawn by an invisible magnetic attraction. His hand reached out to caress one of the mechanical arms, but Harley’s warning woke him from his trance.

“Don’t touch that, mate! You’ll get buzzed.”

Harry turned around, the hypnotic power of the lab broken. Peter was standing with his hands in his pockets and a shit-eating grin, while Harley had a smirk which made him think the older boy had seen this reaction before. Probably not too long ago, by the looks of it.

“Harley, hey, hey, could you show us the thing you did with the slinger again, please? The one where it went WHOOOOOSH and broke the glass.”

The resident employee pushed himself off the back of the couch and invited them onto the working platform. Harry was sure that he was having an out-of-body moment, because there was no way those were his own hands actually grasping a contraption that shot this web-like substance from his wrist, nor was that his own voice commanding the A.I. to tweak the fit of the helmet on his head. It also definitely was not his feet kicking virtual scorpions away with a jet spray at his ankles propelling him forward. Holy shit, when he worked here there was so much he was going to be able to -

“FUCK, PETE, WE GOTTA BE DOWNSTAIRS NOW!”

Harry threw off the helmet and kicked off the boots, apologising hastily to Harley who looked terrified by his sudden roar. Peter followed suit with a shout of realisation, and soon both of them were bursting out the door of 62F and urgently tapping for the lift.

Racing back into The Dome the pair felt a hundred pair of eyes on them. Everyone was awake now, resuming work on their projects. With less than 11 hours to 8PM, the pressure was on to check through each line of the codes, and make sure there was no error before rendering and exporting the finished product for submission. Squeezing past Gwen, who gave them worried glances, Harry and Peter sunk into their chairs, and Harry set out immediately to work, maximising his work window and browsing through his codes to make sure they had not been tampered with.

As if reading his mind, Gwen leaned over and whispered, “There was this girl who tried to come over and look at your screen, but I caught her and she turned back to her seat before she could even touch it. Don’t worry, the window didn’t open up. She’s the redhead sitting all the way in the last row behind us.”

Harry bristled. The anger that had been forgotten came rushing back at him with full force. Unable to restrain himself, he twisted his body angrily around to look for the culprit who had tried to sabotage him.

The redhead herself was glaring at Harry when he made eye contact. Harry was paralysed for a moment; not from the vehemence of the redhead’s gaze, but the way her electric green eyes contained brimming ferocity that belied passion he had never seen before. Despite the sneer she aimed at him, Harry found himself drawn to her stunning features. There was something charismatic about the way she tilted her head upwards and trained a frown on him. Raising her two middle fingers, each bearing a letter ring - J on her left hand and M on her right - she cracked her neck and drew her thumb across her neck, then pointed at Harry.

_What did I do? I’ve never even seen you before today._ _I’m sure I would have remembered you._ Harry was ready to march up to her and… demand an explanation? Report her for cheating? Ask for her number? He was not sure, but Peter’s urgent grasp distracted him from his plan of action. Irritated, he turned to Peter to ask what he wanted, only to find Peter’s eyes bulging and his mouth in an ‘o’ as he pointed in front of him.

5:25:43, 5:25:42…

*****

The hours that flew by after that were a blur. Stress mode activated, and Harry mutely dived into completing the programme and perfecting every line of it. In between, Peter found out that Klaus Haas came in slightly past 7AM and announced that Tony Stark decreed the hackathon would end at 3PM instead. The reason was undisclosed, but it was enough to elicit a flurry of activity as well as protests at this unfair, last-minute change. Haas only shrugged and said there was nothing he could do, since the ultimate decision-maker was the CEO himself. Gwen said that he seemed like he was on their side and had apparently tried to fight for the original deadline to remain, but Tony Stark was insistent on getting his way. Between the disappointment of a hundred students and the possibility of having his paycheck vanish, Haas’ choice was clear.

The sandwiches had not been finished, but Peter went out to get more food for the three of them anyway. With the other two rushing to model and print their designs, he was the only one who had time to enjoy the sensation of being in this room, and the sensation of the world’s most glorious tuna rice balls on his tongue. Closing his eyes, Peter relived the moment when he had pressed on the buzzer of Lab 62F and Mr Stark himself personally came out to greet him. His mouth went dry, and he was 3000% sure his feet had grown roots into the ground of Stark Tower.

“Mr Stark?”

“Tony is fine.”

“Glad to know you’re fine, sir.”

Harley was howling with laughter by the time Peter realised what he had said.

“No, sir, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just - I’ve been calling you Mr Stark in my head all this time. Well, not just in my head, but when I call you with my mouth I call you Mr Stark too. Like, the actual words I say are ‘Mr Stark’. I don’t think I could ever call you Tony, Mr Stark. Maybe Mr Anthony, instead, or -”

“_Anthony _?” Mr Stark looked disgusted. “Kid, let me put a stop to your massive brain fart there. No one’s called me Anthony unironically since my father died, and unless you’re planning on shapeshifting into a 74-year-old loveless viper or an incompetent rival at Hammer’s any time soon, call me Tony.”

“Yes, will do, Mr Stark Tony.”

Mr Stark pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. Peter remained silent.

“Listen, Forrest Gump, as much as I’d love to discuss my passions in nomenclature and salutation, there are a couple more things that are of national importance. First, have you tried the cheeseburgers from Lounge 37?”

“Uh, no, but I do love the tuna rice balls though.”

Mr Stark mimicked violent vomiting before calling out to Harley. “This one’s a freak like you, Har. He’s yours to take.”

Harley gave a thumbs up with a triumphant smirk.

“Second, what’s up with your tutorial scores? Vision could do better than you, and he was born just last year.”

“Oh, I, uh,” Peter stammered, “I’m here just to support my friend, Harry. He’s the true mechanic and he builds all these amazing codes and they come to life. We work together sometimes, but I’m more back-end and he’s the magician. A literal magician. He could programme anything with those hands, I mean.”

“So you came all the way here to play cheerleader for your little boy crush?”

Peter flushed. “No, Mr Stark. Harry’s my best friend, and he really wants this internship. He deserves it, too. He’s got the best brains Midtown has ever seen, and the teachers praise him all the time. I mean, us, technically, because we’re mostly partners. On our projects! But I’m no good at programming, I just take care of the theory parts.”

“Look over there, Frankenstein. Do you see that ugly bean bag?” Peter nodded. “That’s what I call a waste of space, and you’re the ugly bean bag in my competition. Why the hell are you here if you’re not interested in programming and coding?”

Peter put up his hands in surrender. “Mr Stark, I’m just here to help Harry out.”

“Yes, Mother Theresa, I know that. But here’s my next question. Why,” Mr Stark asked with a glint in his eyes, “did you finish the entire set of modules? They were made to be tedious. For someone who has no interest in programming at all that would have been like crawling in a desert with sand up your ass. Why did you finish all 15 attempts in each module?”

Peter considered lying, but decided that at this point there was no point. “I was trying to beat Harry’s high score in each, Mr Stark.”

Mr Stark looked at him incredulously for what felt like an eternity. He then sprung on his feet and gestured for Peter to follow him to the working platform.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., give me Chocolate Ice Cream Twenty-Six V. Remove the parameters and strip away the third to ninth layer.”

Following the “Yes boss” that echoed from the computer, a virtual diagram of many disc-like objects appeared floating in the space before them. Mr Stark stepped up and took one of them in his hands.

“I need these things to fly as far as 200m with a flick of my wrist to slice an enemy’s neck. What needs to be done?”

Peter nodded and turned to Harley.

“I’m talking to you, bean bag.”

Heart pounding in his ears, Peter stepped up alongside the older man and inspected the disc in his hand. He found that it was possible to keep zooming in to a theoretical atomic level.

“Vibranium-calcium alloy. It would maintain the toughness of the material while making it lightweight enough to travel. Two holes, here and here, to ride on any uplift the wind might give and reduce the shakiness when it flies. A size smaller than this, though, just so that it will slice the blood vessels on the neck more cleanly, otherwise it would be too blunt.”

Mr Stark gave Peter an appraising look before jogging down the steps and out of the lab. “This one, Harley. Let me know,” he called out over his shoulder.

Peter was not sure what that meant, but he spent the rest of the night poring over Stark technology with Harley. Mr Stark had come back with wine and some point, and he told Peter about his inventions and how he became Iron Man. When they finished the wine Mr Stark left to attend to business and shortly after that Harry had come knocking.

Harry’s screen now showed that the project was 78% exported, but Peter did not want to disturb him before he knew that Harry had fully completed his work. That curveball that Mr Haas threw put him in one of those moods, and Peter knew better than to step on his toes.

When the overhead countdown read 00:35:56, Harry pressed the ‘CONFIRM SUBMISSION’ button and collapsed onto the table. After an entire night of not sleeping, the added pressure of a tightened deadline drove Harry to his physical limits. He heard Peter’s loud cheer when his suit projector was submitted, and felt Peter’s hands giving him a massage before he knocked out cold on the desk. He did not get to sleep long, however, because half an hour later, at 3PM sharp, three people strode in with purpose and took their places on the platform. Harry lifted his head, awoken by Peter’s aggressive shaking, and was just wiping the drool from his mouth when the most important-looking person of the three spoke.

“Remind me again what time this was supposed to end? 8PM, right? Now, how many of you want to know why it changed? All of you, I see. That’s great. Curiosity is great. Curiosity can lead you to uncover the secrets of humanity - well, at least, those that Stark Industries hasn’t uncovered yet. Curiosity got me Jennifer Aniston’s number. She was good, by the way, if you were wondering. Ten out of ten, highly recommended. Sorry, Ms Potts. It’s just that she was so… adaptable. Really gave me what I wanted, and I wanted a _ lot _. Now, adaptability is another thing that’s important, both in the bedroom and in The Dome. Not that there was a difference between the two for me on one or two occasions, but you guys know how adaptability works, right? How many of you didn’t manage to submit your prototype? No hands up, good. So you guys are curious and adaptable. That’s what I’m looking for. But that’s not all.

“Some of you may not know this. It’s a huge secret and we try to keep it under wraps, but about 7 years ago I was stranded in a desert for some time. At that time my makeshift suit was in tatters, and I was enjoying my identity as a feast for the sandflies. That experience shaped me. Not only because I confirmed myself as a delicious snack, as Jennifer can confirm, but also because it let me know the feeling of crawling through a desert with sand up my ass. Today, like you, I was curious. Curious to see if anyone was curious. Curious to see if anyone was adaptable. Curious to see if anyone could crawl through a desert and press on, even if their asshole was screaming in pain.

“I am glad to say I have found someone like that, and long story short that’s why we have to cut the party early. Thank you for your participation, I’m sure they will provide good entertainment for Klaus and the team. Grab some pizza on your way out, and remember: you might wanna stick some things up your butt tonight,” Tony Stark finished his speech, his eyes trained on Harry’s best friend sitting beside him.

In that moment, Harry knew his life goal was defined for him forever: to take everything and everyone Peter Parker ever loved away from him, just like how he had taken everything from Harry in an instant.

*****

_ Reports of the fight between Spider-Man and the Green Goblin claim that the Green Goblin held Gwen Stacy, long-time girlfriend of Spider-Man, hostage on his hoverboard when the clash occurred in Manhattan. The Green Goblin had reportedly dangled Stacy from above the George Washington Bridge when Spider-Man confronted him. Drivers on the road overheard snippets of their conversation and the following audio clip is a digitally enhanced recording taken by an elderly gentleman, Mr Stan Lee. _

“Harry, I never meant to. Mr Stark made the decision, I did nothing but speak up for you. Ask Harley! He was there!”

“Shut up, Parker. The time for you to explain anything has long passed. You could have refused, golden boy.”

“You disappeared after that, Harry. Vanished without a trace! I wasn’t even sure, I thought you’d died! I spent months looking for you and I only went to Mr Stark for help to locate you, and one thing led to another and -”

“Spare me that, traitor. I’m gonna -”

_ The audio clip cuts off at this point, but witnesses claimed that they saw the Green Goblin release Stacy, dropping her from 500m above ground. Spider-Man released a weapon from his arsenal that shot after the Green Goblin’s neck, slicing his jugular, before he leapt across and released his web to rescue Stacy before she hit the Hudson River. _

_ Alas, that may not have done the trick, as Stacy was found dead when Spider-Man returned to land. An autopsy report is due before it can be determined whether Stacy died due to the fall from the height, or from the whiplash effect that Spider-Man’s web created. The report is expected to be released to the public by next Thursday. _

_ I’m Christine Everhart, and, as always, thanks for watching WHiH Newsfront. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to yell at me :)
> 
> Thanks for reading till the end! Please let me know what you thought of the writing and plot, as well as ways to improve. I'm working on a Mysterio story now that's probably going to take a few months so I'd love some feedback to write better.
> 
> First fic done sksksksk


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